


NYADA (New York Academy of Dick and Ass)

by JWMelmoth



Series: Quickies (Fics under 1000 Words) [12]
Category: Glee
Genre: Masturbation, Multi, NC-17, NSFW, Not Blaine or Klaine Friendly, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Slavery, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 13:40:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20026723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JWMelmoth/pseuds/JWMelmoth
Summary: Kurt often finds his NYADA stage combat class very...inspiring.





	NYADA (New York Academy of Dick and Ass)

**Author's Note:**

> When the NYADA stage combat class scenes with shirtless Kurt came out, the smut-fic pretty much wrote itself. If porn is not your thing, turn back now, as this is 99% porn and 1% Blaine shade.
> 
> [Import fic - First published on ff.net / Tumblr 2014.]
> 
> DISCLAIMER 2020: As the author of this work, I do NOT condone this work to be copied or otherwise made available outside Archive of Our Own. This work was written specifically for publication on AO3 and is not for profit. Any re-publication on for profit/monetised apps/sites is not authorised or supported by me.

Kurt smiled contentedly and rose from his pillows on the floor. Though the Spartan army travelled light and commodities were- as you would expect- _Spartan_, being their fearless leader had some perks. Kurt’s tent was the only one to have a carpeted floor, and it was spacious enough to room several men; which was exactly what it was doing right now.

Kurt surveyed the men standing in front of him. They varied in age, race, build and profession. Technically, they were slaves; men from cities sacked (or ‘liberated’, depending on whose view you took), taken to service Kurt in his travelling seraglio. Some had always been slaves, others were warriors, poets, laborers, or even young lords and princes. Yet none of them was there against their will- whenever Kurt’s army conquered a town, Kurt would demand the citizens to nominate ten of their finest men as a living tax for his male harem. His only requisite was that they volunteered. He would then handpick one or two, sometimes three to join the Spartan army.

Life in his harem was a privilege - food, housing and protection was provided for, friendships were encouraged and rivalry suppressed. If it happened that a slave expressed the desire to leave, they could- though their native city would have to send a replacement. It was an honour, rather than a punishment; a way Kurt had of showing his new subjects he appreciated their native beauty. And appreciate it he did.

Kurt always made an effort to communicate his desires in the slaves’ native language; he spoke many and a basic Greek was spoken by almost all. If no commmon tongue could be found, he’d simply direct them with a gentle touch of his pale fingers. The language of love, after all, was universal.

Kurt made his round through the gathering of eager men, whispering a few words here, swiping a lingering caress there, until all knew what was expected of them. He sank down into the pillows and made himself comfortable.

One young man picked up an oud and plucked its strings; another joined him and started singing in a clear, melodious voice. A third started a slow dance, rolling his muscles and contorting his oiled body in many arousing poses.

A pale, blond man with broad shoulders came up to Kurt and knelt down between his legs, licking his lips and, with a nod of permission from Kurt, started to unfasten Kurt’s breeches. A black skinned man with many battle scars on his chest joined them, though for now, he only set to work on massaging Kurt’s shoulders as the blond man took Kurt’s half-hard erection into his mouth.

Another pair joined Kurt on the carpet. A handsome man with shortly cropped black hair carried a flask of scented oil and helped to position his friend, a lithe brown-haired male with many freckles on his skin, so that Kurt could watch them as one prepared the other for penetration.

Kurt watched them through lidded eyes while the blond man sucked him almost to the point where he couldn’t take it anymore- then he cupped the man’s jaw and signalled for him to stop. He was fully erect now, and the disappointment on the blond’s flushed face was heart-breaking.

Kurt got up on his knees and kissed him, burying both his hands in the man’s curly locks while he spread his legs a little. It was the warrior’s cue. He also produced a flask of oil, and with skilled fingers, reached between Kurt’s legs to stretch him. Kurt let himself be tugged and pulled for a moment, swaying a little as he clung to the blond man for support, and then let him go and beckoned for the brown-haired man. He was a prince, his body well-cared for, and his hands soft, never having known a day of manual labour. His father, lord of the city, had been the one to nominate him. He came eagerly and got on his hands and knees in front of Kurt.

Kurt pressed his fingers inside of him, caressing him for a moment and making sure he was ready. The young prince sighed and pressed back, lowering himself on his elbows, and Kurt quickly gave him what he wanted and replaced his fingers with his cock. He thrust in and out of the prince’s body slowly, setting a pace, and then looked over his shoulder for the other man to join them.

The warrior knelt behind Kurt and lined himself up, waiting for Kurt to pull back from the other man before he thrust himself inside. Kurt groaned, pressed forward into the other man’s body in response and electing a moan from underneath him. They were linked together, Kurt pinned between them, like a chain of lust, and the other men in the tent looked on, every single one of them hard with desire.

Kurt moved back and forth, in turn thrusting into the body beneath him and impaling himself on the warrior’s organ until he felt himself tighten with need-

-and came, shaking, all over his hand under the covers in his bed at the New York loft, his other hand grasping and pulling at the toy between his legs.

He was breathing heavily. _Holy fuck_. That was intense. He carefully slipped the black dildo- a remnant of a more adventurous sex life with Adam- out of his ass and wobbled to the bathroom on sea legs. He washed his hands and disinfected the toy, and then went back to his empty bed.

As he glanced at the picture of him and Blaine on his nightstand (next to a paperback copy of_ Arabian Knights_), he felt a twang of guilt for masturbating to his fantasy of his NYADA combat class peers, but then he remembered what he had seen on Blaine’s laptop and cleared his conscience.

He crawled back under the covers and wrapped his arms around Bruce, leaving the dildo on the extra pillow next to him. He might need it again- the night was long, and there were quite a few men in his imaginary tent that hadn’t had their turn yet. 


End file.
